A memory
by ningloreth1
Summary: A Little Eowyn story for Yuletide. Eowyn remembers a childhood adventure. How will Legolas react?
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: Requested by Belle—thank you to her. If you haven't read my Legolas/Eowyn stories (which are too adult to be posted here), you just need to know that, in them, Legolas and Eowyn are a couple, and that Legolas has a special nickname ('Melmenya') for Eowyn.

**A memory**

It was very late.

Little Eldarion had been put to bed many hours before; Lothiriel and Arwen had also retired; King Thranduil had joined Cyllien in the bedchamber; Hentmirë had fallen asleep before the fire; and Gimli, aided and abetted by Aragorn and Legolas, was entertaining Faramir and Berengar with a blow-by-blow account of his dealings with the Army of the Dead…

Eowyn handed round a plate of gingerbread—"Thank you, melmenya," said Legolas—then sat down beside her brother at the fireside.

Eomer filled two goblets with hot, spiced wine and, smiling, handed one to Eowyn. "Do you remember," he asked, "when father was alive, how he used to take us to the Yuletide Horse Fair?"

Eowyn frowned. "I remember buying horses, yes—but I cannot say that I really remember the fair."

"Not even getting your puppet there?"

"My puppet?" She looked puzzled. Then her face suddenly brightened, and she smiled, broadly. "My puppet, _Melwenwyn_! Yes, I do remember her, now that you have reminded me! Oh, how I loved her! Fancy _your_ remembering her when I had forgotten!"

"Well, Theodred and I were kept indoors for a week for throwing her over the roof of the Golden Hall—you always _were_ uncle's favourite."

Eowyn grinned. "I remember that, too. You claimed that you were teaching her to fly, but you broke one of her eyes. Did I really get her at the Yuletide Horse Fair?"

She sank back in her chair and, with the help of the wine and the warmth of the fire, she let Eomer's reminiscences take her back, more than twenty years.

**The Yuletide Horse Fair **

"Now hold my hand."

Eowyn reached for the big, strong fingers, and felt them envelop her own small hand, squeezing it gently. She smiled up at her daddy. "Horsies!"

"Yes," he said, "and we are going to buy one."

Flanked right and left by a small guard of Rohirrim, the pair walked through the frosty market, past stalls displaying skeins of yarn and rolls of warm, woollen cloth; past strange, dark men selling fruits and oils and strong-smelling spices—one of them gave Eowyn a big, black berry and he and her daddy both laughed when she spat it out because it tasted horrid; past blacksmiths, saddlers and harness makers; past jugglers, tumblers, and a man eating fire…

And everyone seemed to know them, and stepped aside, bowing as they passed.

Eowyn pulled at her father's hand, and pointed to a man holding a brightly-striped box, and they stopped so that she could have a better look. Inside the box there were two tiny dwarves, with rosy-red cheeks and big noses, and her daddy told her that they were called 'puppets'. They were threatening each other with little axes.

Eowyn called to them, and they turned, startled, and peered at her, and they looked funny, so she waved to them, laughing—

And, whilst the smaller dwarf was waving back, the big one suddenly swung his axe, and knocked the small one flat. And then he hit him, again and again and again—

"_Waaaaaaah!_" wailed Eowyn.

And her daddy picked her up, and hugged her, but he was laughing. "It is not real, little lady," he said, rubbing her back, soothingly. "Come, I will show you." He carried her closer (and his Guards followed, forming a circle around the puppeteer). "See?"

Eowyn stared down at the two dwarves. The small one did not _seem_ to be hurt…

"Show my daughter how they work."

Still breathing with little, gulping sobs, Eowyn watched in fascination as the dwarves collapsed and the man, though his hands were still holding the box, brought out two _more_ hands and waved them at her.

"_Daddy!_" she shrieked, burying her face in his hair.

"_Shhhhh! Shh-shh-shh!_" Her father's voice was still full of laughter. "It is a game, Eowyn. Just make-believe. Look again."

She turned her head, slowly.

The man's second pair of hands had disappeared, and now the dwarves were bobbing up and down, taking it in turns to bow to her.

"Watch," said her father. "These,"—he touched one of the hands holding the box—"are just _pretend_ hands." He pinched them, hard. "His real hands are inside the dwarves, making them move. There is nothing to be afraid of." He held out a finger and one of the puppets grasped it and pulled.

Eowyn laughed.

"Perhaps her Ladyship would like a puppet of her own, my Lord?" said the puppeteer.

"Would you like a dwarf, Eowyn?"

She nodded.

"I am going to take my hand out again, my Lady," said the puppeteer, cautiously. "_There_." He wiggled his fingers and, this time, Eowyn grinned. Then he felt in one of his big pockets. "Yes… This might be small enough for you." He held out a pretty little girl puppet with long yellow hair, blue button eyes, and a broad smile.

Eowyn took it from him, shyly. "Thank you."

"Put it on like a glove, my Lady—that's right. Now, move your fingers, like this… Yes, very good!"

He slipped his hand back into one of the dwarves and it immediately sprang to life.

"Wave to him, little lady," said Eowyn's father.

Eowyn made her puppet jiggle.

"Clever girl! Falemi," he said, to one of the Guards, "give Master Puppeteer a gold coin."

"Thank you, my Lord," said the man, bowing low.

…

Her father carried her the rest of the way, through the fair and out into the fields beyond, where the horse traders had gathered to parade and sell their animals. Clinging his shoulder, Eowyn looked this way and that.

There was so much to see!

There were strange little men, with big feet and curly hair, leading sturdy ponies; there were rough farmers showing teams of draught horses; there were men of Rohan selling brave young war horses; and there were elegant southern noblemen putting their smooth, sleek hunters through their paces.

Eowyn spotted a beautiful little colt, with huge, bright eyes and, forgetting that she was still holding her puppet, she tugged at her daddy's jerkin and pointed excitedly.

"You like _him_, do you, little lady? Yes, you have a good eye for bloodstock. But," he added, kissing her temple, "_we_ are looking for something special today—_very_ special—ah, yes! Look over there."

Turning, so that she could see where he was pointing, he showed her a group of dainty little mares, fine-boned and pale as milk. Eowyn had never seen horses so lovely—and their owners were just as fascinating: taller than her daddy, but slender (almost like her mummy), with smooth, fair hair and beardless faces.

"Pretty lady-man," said Eowyn, loudly, pointing to their leader.

"Oh! I do apologise, my Lord," said her father, with uncharacteristic embarrassment. He bowed slightly. "My daughter is used to the burly men of Rohan…"

"There is no harm done, my Lord," said the stranger.

His voice was gentle; and when he placed his hand upon his chest and returned the bow, smiling up at Eowyn with twinkling blue eyes, and said, "I am an 'elf', híril nín," she was captivated.

She reached out to him.

"And who is this?" he asked, for she was still holding her puppet.

Eowyn's big smile faded—the dolly had no name. "Don't know," she said, sadly.

"The toy is new," explained her father.

Eowyn hugged the puppet to her chest.

"Do you know what _I_ would call her, híril nín?" said the elf, kindly. "I would call her 'melmenya', because that means belove—"

"_Legolas!_" cried Eowyn, leaping to her feet as the memory flooded back. "Legolas! _Legolas!_"

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

**What is it, melmenya?**

"Legolas! _Legolas!_"

Interrupting Gimli's story in mid axe-swing, the elf peered around his friend's stout frame. "Melmenya?"

"Yes." She laughed. "_Yes!_"

Legolas glanced at Eomer. The man was staring up at his sister, dumbfounded. Legolas rose from his seat and took his wife in his arms. "What is it, melmenya?"

Eowyn laughed again. "It was you," she said. Then, still in his embrace, she came up on tiptoe and, looking over his shoulder, she smiled broadly at their guests. "It was Legolas!"

"What was me, meleth nín?" he asked, softly.

"The _elf_!"

"Sit down,"—gently, he set her back in her chair—"and tell us all about it."

"Eomer was talking about the Yuletide Horse Fair—our father took us there when we were children—and I remembered." She described her encounter with the elf. "It was you, Lassui!"

"You were only two years old," said Eomer, doubtfully. "You remember an elf. But you cannot possibly know that it was Legolas."

"Yes I can!" said Eowyn. "It was Legolas. I am sure of it."

"It may well have been," said Faramir, loyally.

Gimli grunted in agreement.

"Well, it does sound like Legolas," said Hentmirë.

But Legolas, kneeling at Eowyn's feet, said nothing.

…

**Later**

Their friends had retired for the night.

Eowyn was still overjoyed—she found herself smiling at every little thing—but Legolas seemed restless; and Eowyn knew that, once she had fallen asleep, he would leave her, as was his custom, to find tranquility walking beneath the stars.

And, tonight, of all nights, she did not want to be parted from him. "Shall we go for a walk?" she asked.

"It is snowing, Eowyn nín," he said.

"That will make it more fun."

Legolas smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. "You must wrap up warm, then."

Eowyn pulled on her fur-lined boots and slipped on her velvet mantle. "There."

They meandered along the snow-covered walkway, under the frosted branches, past windows glowing with candlelight. "It is so beautiful tonight," said Eowyn.

"_You_ are beautiful, melmenya." He brushed a snowflake from her cheek. "You look happy."

"I _am_ happy."

"Why?"

"Because…" She smiled. "My memory—it means that I have always known you. It means,"—she searched for the right words—"it feels as though you have always been mine."

Legolas raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

"But it has troubled you," said Eowyn.

"No…"

"Yes. That is why I brought you out here." They carried on walking. "Do you remember me, Lassui?"

"Of course."

Eowyn clapped her hands together.

"I had not realised that it was you," he admitted, "but I remember the little girl with her puppet, reaching out to me. I remember it as though it were yesterday." He drew her to the edge of the walkway, and they stood beside the carved wooden rail, gazing down upon the rest of the city. "Twenty-six years is not long, melmenya."

"For an elf who has lived three thousand years," said Eowyn. "I know that, Lassui. But the difference in our ages has never troubled you before. It used to upset _me_—"

"I never thought of you as a child before," said Legolas. "Knowing that I saw you, spoke to you, as a child, feels—strange—it makes the difference real. Oh melmenya, I thank the Valar that you were changed! I could not have borne it!"

"My love!" She grasped his hands.

"I told myself that if I tried hard enough—if I lived every moment as though it were a year, never looking to the future, never regretting what had passed—I could make it last. But, the truth is, I would have lost you so quickly—"

"But not now! You will not lose me now, Lassui!" Her eyes filled with tears. "Why did you never tell me this before?"

"It was not real to me before," said Legolas, honestly.

Her heart ached for him, for she could never bear to see him unhappy, but neither could she—especially tonight—bear to have her own happiness shattered. "Must you be sad now?" Her voice quavered.

The elf turned to her in surprise. "Oh!" He drew her into his arms. "I am sorry!"

"Lord Fingolfin," she said, "has given me a book to read—in Sindarin. It says that the love between an elf and a woman can never end well." She hugged him. "But we are different, Lassui; we have been blessed. Come home with me now, my love,"—she knew that she was gambling, asking him to seek his peace of mind with her instead of his beloved trees; she knew that the stakes were high, and she prayed she would not lose—"come home with me, stay with me, and I will make you forget all those fears."

When he said nothing, she began to tremble.

But then she felt his arms tighten around her, and his hands rub her back (for he thought that she was cold).

"I am such a lucky elf," he whispered.

And her heart sang.


	3. Chapter 3

**A vision**

With a final glance over his shoulder to make sure that no one was watching, Legolas ducked into the clearing.

At the far side of the depression, nestling amongst the great tree roots, sat a crooked little hut fashioned from woven branches daubed with mud. Pale young leaves sprouted from its twisted door jambs and a thin curl of smoke rose from the gap in its crazily pitched roof.

Legolas approached the dark hole of its door, calling softly, "Mistress?"

"Who's there?" came the immediate reply, in a voice that was unexpectedly sharp.

"I am Legolas, of Eryn Carantaur."

"Hmm." An old woman shuffled through the doorway. "Come closer. Yes, _closer_,"—she stared up at him with milky, sightless eyes—"yes," she said, nodding. "What do you want?"

"I am told," he said, "that you tell fortunes."

"Sometimes."

There were three slices of tree trunk grouped around the door, and she gestured towards one of them, indicating that Legolas should take a seat. "It's the past that troubles you," she said, waving him away when he tried to help her sit down. "You want to change it."

"I,"—he frowned—"yes. Yes, you are quite right. I do."

The old woman nodded. "Ayleth," she called—and, for the first time, Legolas became aware of a second person, standing just inside the hut—a young woman, with hair the colour of carantaur leaves—"fetch the glass."

For a moment the younger woman disappeared from view; then she emerged, reverently carrying a ball of crystal (veined and flecked with moon- and starlight), which she placed carefully in the old woman's hands, folding the gnarled fingers round its smooth curves. Then she straightened up, and Legolas caught sight of her pale green eyes—_Fox's eyes_, he thought.

The old woman set the ball in front of him. "Look into it," she said.

Legolas leaned forward and, peering at its polished surface, saw nothing but his own face, comically distorted.

"Look deeper," said the woman.

Legolas leaned closer but, at that very moment, a movement of the younger woman drew his eye, and he saw her cupped hands open, and fragments of leaf and petal fall, and flames leap up, and he caught the scent of something sweet—

"Do not look at Ayleth," said the old woman, "look into the glass."

So Legolas leaned closer still and, feeling strangely light-headed, he gazed past his own reflection, and into the sparkling depths of the crystal ball.

…

_Laughing, Legolas ran up the broad stone steps. The men standing beside the double doors were tall and stern but he gave them his best smile and they let him pass. Inside, the Hall was dark, and smelled of smoke, and roasted meat, and of other, nastier things._

_Legolas bounced across the patterned floor, jumping from red square to red square, until he reached the platform, with its carved wooden throne, then turned—_

_And stopped._

_Someone was crying._

_Hidden in the shadows, somewhere behind the row of carved wooden pillars, someone was sobbing her heart out. _

_Forgetting all about his hopping game, Legolas went to investigate._

…

_It was a human elleth, no older than himself. She was sitting on one of the wooden benches that lined the Great Hall, her head bowed, clutching something to her chest._

"_Hello," said Legolas, cautiously._

_The girl looked up, staring at him with big, tearful eyes, and she was so pretty, Legolas could not help smiling. "What is wrong?"_

_She sniffed._

_Legolas hopped up on to the bench and sat beside her, legs dangling. "Why are you crying?"_

"_Mel_wen_wyn," she mumbled._

_Legolas frowned. "What is Melwenwyn?"_

_She held out the thing she had been hugging._

_Legolas looked at it, critically. "A dolly." (His friend Aredhel had a dolly, but he had never seen the point of one himself)._

"_Melwenwyn is a _puppet_," said the girl, sniffing again._

"_Oh," he said. Then, "What is a puppet?"_

_The girl slipped her hand under the doll's striped skirt and held her up, wiggling her fingers. The little creature waved. Legolas laughed. "She looks quite like you," he said, reaching out and stroking the long woollen hair, "but,"—he touched a fragment of blue button on the dolly's face—"her eye is broken—"_

"_I _knowwwww_," wailed the girl._

"_Oh, do not cry," said Legolas, anxiously. He looked about him, hoping to find help. There was none. "We will ask Gwanur Nerdanel. Yes—she will know what to do. She always knows what to do."_

"_Who—who is—Gwanur Nerdanel?"_

"_She looks after me when Ada is too busy." Legolas jumped down from the bench. "She will be here—somewhere." He held out his hand. "Come with me."_

_The girl gave him the puppet. "Hold Melwenwyn," she said, with another sniff. _

_Legolas watched her roll onto her tummy and, grasping the seat, reach for the floor with her feet. "If Gwanur Nerdanel cannot fix her," he said, kindly, "you can have my Beregond Bunny. _He_ has two eyes."_

_To his surprise, the girl wailed again._

…

_They found the elleth sitting on the stone terrace, mending a tear in Legolas' second-best tunic. She looked closely at the dolly's face. "Of course I can, Little Prince," she said, opening her work basket and searching through her collection of buttons. "Blue. Let me see… Well, I have this one. Or this."_

_Legolas glanced at the girl. She shook her head. "Those do not match," he said._

"_I do not have an exact match, Little Prince, nor two blue buttons the same," said Nerdanel, "but… I do have two _brown_ buttons."_

_The girl shook her head._

"_What about…" Legolas pointed to the line of small, silver-grey buttons decorating the wide cuff of his second-best tunic. "You could use two of those."_

"_That would spoil your tunic, Little Prince!"_

"_No, not if you take one off each sleeve—then it will not show." He turned to the girl. "Would you like those?"_

_She nodded._

_Legolas smiled up at Gwanur Nerdanel. _

_The elleth shook her head indulgently. "You and the Little Princess had better go and play somewhere else for a while," she said, taking up her scissors._

…

"_When you are older," said Legolas, hopping along the terrace, "I will come back and teach you how to use a bow."_

_The girl followed him. "Why?"_

_Legolas stopped, and turned, and the girl—close behind him and intent on stepping on the right stones—head-butted his chest. "Oooof!" He threw his arms around her, to steady them both. "Because then," he said, "you will always be safe."_

"I _have a sword," she said, "and a staff. So _I_ will teach _you_ as well."_

…

"_There," said Gwanur Nerdanel, handing over the puppet. "All done."_

_The girl looked at the dolly's face. The two silver-grey buttons were just the right size, and the elleth had embroidered a fringe of dark lashes above each one. "Thank you," she mumbled, shyly. She turned to Legolas, her own face transformed by a beautiful smile. _

_Legolas smiled back._

_Suddenly, she leaned towards him, and kissed his cheek. _

_Then she skipped away, up the stone steps and through the double doors, waving the puppet at the silent door-keepers as she went._

_Legolas rubbed his face. "When you are older," he called after her, "I will come back, and _I _will kiss _you_."_

…

"Ah!" Legolas' head jerked back.

"Did you see what you wanted?" asked the old woman.

The elf said nothing for a long while, but sat, rubbing his temples and breathing raggedly. Then, slowly, he straightened up, and smiled broadly, and, clasping both hands to his chest, he replied, "Yes, Mistress. It was _exactly_ what I wanted."


End file.
